


The Disciple

by hardcore_like_eezo



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Biotics (Mass Effect), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardcore_like_eezo/pseuds/hardcore_like_eezo
Summary: By the time of the Reaper War, Shepard had honed her biotic skills to a deadly art, wielding advanced techniques like the nova, traditionally known only to the asari.  But before that, she had to learn the basics like everyone else, and who better to teach her than an asari justicar?





	The Disciple

_One month after the destruction of the Collector Base_

 

Shepard found Samara at the starboard observation deck, her effective residence, though she was a little surprised to discover the justicar not meditating, but instead reclined with a book she had pulled from the library.

“Hello, Shepard” Samara said serenely as the commander entered, not yet lifting her eyes from the pages before her.

“I can come back later, if you like,” Shepard said, noting Samara’s focus.

“That’s not necessary.  One moment…” Samara said as her eyes darted back and forth across the book for a few more lines before she set it on her lap and redirected her attention.

“What can I do for you, Shepard?”

“I wanted to know how much longer you’ll be on the _Normandy_ , now that your—sorry, what was it?”

“My Oath of Subsumation has been fulfilled?”

“That was it.”

Samara glanced out the window into space, “I have no specifics for you, but I’ll leave soon, I suppose.  I’ve come to feel oddly at home amongst this unusual collection of companions you’ve gathered.  It’s a very peaceful feeling, though my duties cannot be put on hold forever.  Why do you ask?”

“I wanted a favor, actually.”

“A favor?  You mean helping destroy the Collectors wasn’t quite enough?”

Shepard blinked in surprise before she spotted the subtle smile on Samara’s face.

“Was that sarcasm?  From you?” Shepard asked in disbelief.

Samara’s smile grew, “As I said, I’ve been at peace.  When I let my guard down, some humor may slip out from time to time.  I don’t suggest you get used to it.”

“I’ll try not to then,” Shepard said with a laugh.

“It is a rare occurrence.  Now, what is this favor?”

Shepard’s mouth hung ajar with hesitation before saying, “Is there any chance you know how to perform a biotic nova?  I’d like you to teach me, if you do.”

Samara’s brow rose in response, “You are brave, aren’t you?  That is a particularly advanced technique, rarely performed by anyone outside of asari.  The backfire, when done incorrectly, can be very dangerous.  Are you certain you’re up for it?”

“Well…” Shepard said a little sheepishly, scratching at the back of her neck, “I’ve already done it a few times before.  The first was by accident, and on an L3 amp at that.  I gave myself a concussion that time, and singed the hairs on my neck the third time when my amp didn’t fully discharge.  I figured I’d better learn it correctly before I keep trying.”

It occurred to Shepard she’d never heard Samara laugh until now, and with such a genuine and rich tone as it was.  She suspected it was far more than befriending the crew that had brought Samara a new sense of peace.  Samara had mourned after they hunted down her murderous daughter, but now she sounded as if a terrible weight was lifted from her shoulders at long last.  As her laughter subsided, she set her book down on the seat next to her and rose to face Shepard.

“Humans really do fascinate me, and you Shepard,” Samara said, actually beaming at her, “you are my favorite.  It seems there is nothing that will deter you, even the risk of brain damage.  I would be happy to have you as my biotic disciple for the remainder of my time on your ship.”

Shepard smiled in anticipation, turning to follow Samara as they left starboard observation for the elevator.  It had not escaped her how much of an honor it must be among the asari to receive biotic instruction of any kind from a justicar.

“I rarely use the nova, myself, but justicar are trained in virtually every biotic technique, both offensive and defensive.  Since you opt for a more close-quarters style of combat, this will be a powerful addition to your skills.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Shepard said, “And we’ll keep this to the hangar bay.  If I hurt anything, I’d rather limit the damage to myself.”

Samara shook her head in amusement, “It will be my job to prevent any more concussions on your part.  But yes, we’ll need plenty of space.  We should also gather a number of those floor mats you use for sparring.  The mats may not survive, but they should protect the floor of the hangar.”

“I think we can afford to sacrifice some mats.  Let’s get to it.”

 

 

 

They set up for practice in the far end of the hangar, triple-stacking the floor mats in the center aisle.  Shepard stood to the side, taking off her jacket and stretching her limbs, while Samara climbed on top of their practice mat and motioned to Shepard.

“I recommend you stand back farther than that.”

Shepard put more space between the two of them as she watched a bright blue shimmer envelop the justicar, her barrier rising to full strength.  In one fluid motion, she leapt into the air while her barrier dissolved, raised a fist now illuminated with the barrier’s raw energy, and drove it into the floor.  Several layers of mass effect fields erupted and flowered out from the spot where her fist connected with the mats, and the hangar echoed with a sound like a concentrated explosive.  Shepard squinted against the blast of displaced air hitting her from the nova’s shock waves.

“The nova,” Samara said as she stepped down from the mats, “at its most fundamental, shares much in common with a biotically-charged punch.  Mass lowering fields are still focused around your fist, but instead are released in a quick succession of shock waves after connecting with a surface.  The floor, in this case.”

Samara drew her fist back, charging a swirling sphere of energy around it before punching forward, sending a blast of energy down the length of the hangar where it dissipated harmlessly over the distance.  In response, Shepard threw a biotic punch of her own, though the blue energy failed to leave her fist as she jabbed.

“I’ve seen you use lift field projectiles.  Releasing the energy will feel similar to that.”

Shepard practiced biotically punching into the air a few more times before the concentrated energy left her fist and shot through the hangar.

“There it is,” Shepard said with some satisfaction.

“Precisely.  Now, when it comes to driving that energy into the floor, that is where the technique becomes more complex.  The moment your fist connects with a surface, the fields will have nowhere to go and you must control their distribution so that they expand around you.  If performed incorrectly, the fields will backfire directly into you.  With a fully charged nova, this has the potential to be fatal.”

“Or embarrassing, at least” Shepard quipped as she continued practicing turning her biotic punches into projectiles, alternating fists as she became more consistent.

“Yes,” Samara chuckled, “All the better to experience that now than in real combat.”

The shadows in the hangar bay danced back in forth in quick succession as the fields of blue biotic energy traveled down the aisle.

“What would happen if one of these connected with a target?” Shepard asked between jabs.

“It would be something of a cross between a lift field and a shock wave attack,” Samara said, “It’s not very potent, however.  The energy expends itself quickly over distance, hence the point-blank effectiveness of a nova.  A sudden burst of energy against all your surroundings as opposed to a focused attack.”

Samara watched Shepard for a time, offering pointers where warranted, but observed the commander needed little in the way of advice and instead only required time for repetition and consistency.  She was an ideal pupil in many ways, merely one of the aspects Samara respected about her and why she was so amenable to the request to train her.  Shepard approached each new challenge with a singular focus, determined to become an expert in whatever she took on.  She wasn’t a jack of all trades, but for every skill she could learn, she took it as a personal challenge to master it.

“Good.  Now, try it on the mats.  The complexity of this part will make up most of your training.”

As Shepard climbed onto their practice floor, she brought her barriers up as Samara had, ready to draw on their energy for the nova.

“No barriers for now,” Samara said with a shake of her hand.

“But isn’t that where all the energy comes from?”

“In a full nova, yes, but you are not yet ready for that level of power.  For now, just use the same energy you were channeling into your punches.”

Shepard acquiesced was a shrug as she stood over the center of the interlocking mats.  Looking down, she noted the distortions and deformations in the plastic surface where Samara’s blast had ripped across it.

“Additionally,” Samara said, “a full nova drains your barriers momentarily into your amp.  Asari don’t use amps, but the energy gathers in a nerve cluster in our brain stem similar to your amp during a nova.  As you’ve experienced previously, failing to release that concentration of energy can cause it to disperse as heat instead.”

“I get it,” Shepard said, “I might burn my brain if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Hence the low energy novas for now,” Samara said before motioning for Shepard to continue.

She took in a steadying breath as she focused on her biotics, closing her eyes as she did.  She was in her element; this was what she did for a living.  She was an N7, a graduate of the Vanguard Program, making her a powerful biotic with a shotgun.  She was dangerous and she knew it.

Her eyelids flew open, she leapt into the air with her biotically-charged fist raised above her head, drove the chaotic ball of energy into floor beneath her—and experienced the receiving end of her nova.  She felt a blunt force hit her square in her core, knocking the wind out of her as she flew almost perfectly vertical for about a meter before dropping flat on her stomach.

A gruff howl of laughter came from the far end of the hangar in response to Shepard’s performance.  Samara turned around and Shepard spied the source of amusement as she coughed, regaining her breath again.

“Brilliant!” Zaeed shouted across the deck, “I wish I’d been recording that.”

“Don’t you have something better to be doing?” Shepard grunted as she stood back up, squinting in Zaeed’s direction.

“You kidding?  We never get entertainment this good on your ship.”

Samara glanced back to Shepard, asking in a voice not loud enough for Zaeed to hear, “Shall I remove him?  Or perhaps put him in a stasis field?  If he’ll be a distraction—”

“You’ll what?” Zaeed piped up defensively, unable to understand her over the hum of the _Normandy_.

Shepard waived him off, “Let him watch.  Tell me what I did wrong.”

Samara returned the soft smile of an understanding but simultaneously amused instructor, “Where would you like me to begin?”

The practice and instruction continued for another hour with only low energy novas.  Shepard managed to backfire and fly into the air a few more times but learned to brace herself in such a way as to prevent the effect from leaving her incapacitated like the first time, making her failures a little less ungraceful.  Samara had her further reign in the strength of the nova, focusing on directing the mass effect fields in an outward direction instead of straight into the ground.  For a time, Shepard wound up stuck in a rut of throwing biotic punches into the ground with little to no noticeable effect, but with patience and repetition, she learned to appreciate the subtle control over her energies required to correctly execute a nova.

With slow but observable progress, Samara concluded, “That's enough for now, Shepard.  We should aim to limit these sessions to an hour at most.  For now, I suggest we return to the observation lounge for meditation.”

Shepard cocked an eyebrow, “And that will help?”

“Of course,” Samara said plainly, “Control of biotics requires much conscious effort, as you are aware.  In here I'll teach you the precision of technique, but to gain full proficiency over the nova—and any biotic skill for that matter—you must learn to quiet your mind.”

Zaeed looked up from his omni-tool where he'd been aimlessly browsing the extranet after Shepard's displays became less entertaining, “If you ask me, you should stick to your literal guns, Shepard.  You're damned psychotic enough with that shotgun as it is.”

“I like to find a balance between my guns and biotics.  And besides, there's no harm in adding to my arsenal,” Shepard pointed out as she slid her jacket back on.

“Except to your enemies,” Zaeed said with a grin.

“There are many reasons Shepard's enemies both fear and respect her,” Samara said in agreement, “Her handiness with a shotgun is but one of them.”

Shepard paused as Samara's comment tickled a memory.

“Samara, don't you have a shotgun among your things?” Shepard asked, “I don't think I've ever seen you use it.”

“Ah,” Samara said with quiet reverence, “You are correct.  I don’t prefer shotguns, but that one is an antique I received long ago.  If I ever find myself in need of a shotgun, that is the one I want at my side.  As it turns out, it's called the Disciple.”

In anticipation of Shepard's next question, and following her growing expression of curiosity, Samara asked, “Would you like to try it out?”

“I—if you don't mind,” Shepard said quickly, cutting her eagerness short out of respect.

Samara nodded, “You are one of the few I would entrust it with.  I'll return in a moment.”

Shepard worked to setup a couple practice targets on the hangar bay wall as she waited for Samara to return.  When Zaeed came over to lend a hand, she shot a skeptical glance in his direction.

“You think she's gonna let you handle that gun too?”

Zaeed hummed, “Maybe.  I just wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

Shepard heard the elevator doors open again and spotted Samara carrying something that at first glance looked almost too elegant to be a gun, compared to the other weapons that populated the _Normandy’s_ armory.

“Leave it to the asari to forget how to make a shotgun look like a shotgun,” Zaeed grumbled, inhaling with a sharp hiss when Shepard punched him hard in his unguarded shoulder.

“Just because something is a weapon doesn't mean one cannot take pride in its appearance,” Samara said, “The asari have always strove to avoid sacrificing aesthetics in design wherever possible.”

Samara handed the Disciple over to Shepard, who took it gingerly from the justicar.

“It may be 400 years old, but it's not delicate, Shepard,” Samara said with a smile.

Shepard chuckled in spite of herself as she admired the weapon’s features.  Its design was sleek and graceful, with long gentle curves characteristic of asari design running the length of the barrel back to the rounded end of the stock.  If anything, she found the overall shape evocative of a mass relay.  The weapon’s surfaces had a matted sheen that highlighted its two-tone appearance of off-white and dark, muted violet.  The fact that violet was one of Shepard's favorite shades was but a footnote among the reasons she was already enamored with the shotgun, and she hadn't fired a single shot yet.

“It's so light,” Shepard said.

“Yes, even more so since I modified it to use thermal clips.”

“And 400 years old??”

“Goddamn amazing it still looks this good,” Zaeed muttered as he peered over Shepard’s shoulder.

“Asari designs are made to last,” Samara said less with pride and more as a simple matter-of-fact.

Shepard faced the targets, bringing the shotgun to her shoulder as she took aim.  The textured surface along the forestock and the grip had a reassuring tactile nature about it, aided further by the fact that the grip’s proportions were designed by a fellow five-fingered species.  Before pressing the trigger, she took a quick glance at the indicators on the side of the barrel: four shots per clip.

The hangar bay echoed from the four blasts as Shepard unloaded each shot into the first target, ejected the heat sink and inserted another with practiced efficiency—hot gasses hissing out of the clip’s chamber as she did—and unleashed four more shots at the second target.

“Damn,” Shepard breathed in awe as she lowered the shotgun and stared at the patterns left on the targets, “It’s really accurate too.”

And on top of that, taking into account the low recoil and surprisingly low weight, she didn’t doubt she could accurately fire the gun one-handed if she wanted to.

“The Disciples have a long history with the justicars,” Samara said, “Is there anything more you wish to know?”

Shepard stared at the gun in her hands once more before turning to Samara to ask bluntly, “Um, where can I get one?”

Zaeed chuckled as Samara shook her head with a smile and extended her hand for the gun.

As Shepard returned it to its owner with a mild reluctance, Samara said, “The Disciples have long since ceased exclusivity to the justicars, but they are still difficult to come by.  Perhaps one day, one will make its way to you.”

“Better stick to your biotics training after all,” Zaeed said with a hint of his own disappointment as he watched the gun leave without an opportunity to try it out after Shepard.

“I can live with that,” Shepard said, “I’m already lucky enough to know someone who can teach me the nova.”

With that, yet another idea popped into Shepard’s head, and she shouted across the hangar bay to Samara.

“Samara, can you perform a biotic flare?”

Samara tossed a look back over her shoulder, and if Shepard hadn’t known her as well as she did, she wouldn’t have recognized the subtle expression amounting to a teacher scolding her student.

“One lesson at a time, Shepard.”


End file.
